


The Revenge of Stealy: A Mr. Poopybutthole and Noob Noob Tale

by Closeted_Calliope



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Action, Angst, F/F, I have so many things I want to tag but can't because spoilers, I just came up with this idea after watching a dumb YT vid and noticed how alike they look, M/M, Multi, Romance, Suspense, so now it's a fic or w/e, the Poopybuttholes and Noob Noob are gonna be happy in a nice polyam relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-10 11:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12297846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Closeted_Calliope/pseuds/Closeted_Calliope
Summary: When Mr. Poopybutthole returns to his home to find his wife and child missing, with only a small pile of unrelated objects left in their place, he knows exactly who did it.And he knows exactly who can help him.But can he keep his old feelings for a friend under wraps in order to save his family? Or will Noob Noob make him go "God Damn!" once again?(This is fucking trash and I don't fucking care.)





	The Revenge of Stealy: A Mr. Poopybutthole and Noob Noob Tale

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched this video a while back and I noticed how much Stealy and Mr. Poopybutthole looked alike, and I remembered some old fanart of Mr. Poopybutthole x Noob Noob (pre- S3E10) and then I came up with this horrible idea, and now I'm writing it because who the hell else will? Also to the people that also read my camp camp fic, this is what I've been working on instead so blame this fic for my lack of updates lol. Anyway, enjoy!!!

Mr. Poopybutthole smiled as he walked down the street, his cane gently clacking against the sidewalk as he moved along. After over a year of physical therapy, he was finally almost done. Hell, he was almost back to how he was before the 'accident.'

Mr. Poopybutthole frowned at the thought of the day he got shot. It had been forever since he'd seen Rick and the Smiths and.......Beth....... but the day was still fresh in his mind as ever. He still didn't know how he felt about Beth– giving that she, you know, shot him– but she was no longer a staple in his life so he didn't think about it too much. 

As he turned the corner, a man selling fruit from a little stand called out to him, "Ay, Mr. Poopybutthole! How ya been doin'?"

With a tip of his hat, he replied, "Oo-wee! Good as ever, Roderick!! How was Johnny's dance recital?"

Roderick grinned. "Aw man, he kept fallin' on his face and makin' a real fool o' himself. But it makes him happy and that's all that matters."

"You know it. Us dads only ever want our kids to be happy. Oo-wee!!"

"Speakin' o' kids, how's Baby Poopybutthole?" Roderick asked genuinely. 

Mr. Poopybutthole took off his hat as he gushed, "Oo-wee! My Baby Poopybutthole has been growing up real quick! Took his first steps just the other day!!"

Roderick chuckled heartily, "Wow, that's incredible!" He took a few plums and threw them into a brown paper back for Mr. Poopybutthole to take. "Here, take these. Free o' charge for my favorite customer!"

"Oh n-no, Roderick, I couldn't," Mr. Poopybutthole stammered as he put his hat back on. 

"I insist! Ya family deserves t' celebrate this big milestone!"

"Oo-wee! Thank you, Roderick!" Mr. Poopybutthole took the bag in his free arm and began to hobble away. But before he got far, he turned around and shouted, "I'll see you at poker next week, right?"

"Ya know I never miss a game! See ya then, Mr. Poopybutthole!"

It was only a few blocks' walk to his apartment complex. As he stepped through the doors, he borderline trotted to the elevator. He pressed the button for the fifth floor and waited patiently for the lifting machine to rise. 

His apartment door wasn't too far from the elevator, and as he made his way there, he could hardly contain his excitement. Nothing gave him more joy in life than seeing his wife and son. 

As he twisted his key into the keyhole and opened the door, he began, "Oo-wee, honey!! I'm-"

His breath caught in his throat with a terrified wheeze. He didn't notice the bag of plums crumpling out of his hands and falling to the floor, plums scattering out of the bag and across the overturned room. 

His apartment was a disaster, furniture and other household items strewn across the living area. Lamps and the coat rack were tossed off their stands and lying uselessly on the floor, several of which were missing their shades. The cabinets over the kitchen counter had been ripped from the walls, nowhere to be seen. It looked like they had been robbed while Mrs. Poopybutthole was out. But Mrs. Poopybutthole was always home during this time; it was when Baby Poopybutthole took his daily nap. So that meant.....

"Mrs. Poopybutthole!!" Mr. Poopybutthole cried as he stumbled through the debris across the living area and towards the baby's room. There was a chance his family was safe if he could only.....

With time and a lot of effort and stumbling, he finally made it to Baby Poopybutthole's room. He ripped the door open and gasped in shock. 

Not only were his wife and son not there, but most of Baby Poopybutthole's things were gone as well. The crib, the diaper bag, his favorite toys: gone. 

Mr. Poopybutthole fell to his knees and began to shudder with sobs, his cane falling to the ground beside him. He began thinking in What Ifs; What if he had been there to help? What if they had been taken? What if they had been _killed_? What if-

He suddenly noticed a small pile of objects in the place were Baby Poopybutthole's crib once stood. Tears still rolling from his eyes, he managed to crawl over to inspect them further.

The items in question had no visible relation to one another: a plumbus, an old packet of McDonald's Szechuan sauce, a few wine corks, some paper clips, a small pocket knife, and seven brapples.

To anyone else, this would've just been a random pile of junk that the robbers/murderers/kidnap pets left behind. But to Mr. Poopybutthole, he knew exactly what this meant. 

It was a warning. 

And it meant he needed to act fast. 

Still kneeling on the floor of his missing son's room, tears no longer flowing but caked over his face, he whipped out his phone and began dialing the number he knew better than anything else. 

Before he punched in the last number, he paused with his thumb raised. He hadn't talked to him in years. He didn't know if he would even remember him. 

But he was his only hope. And regardless of the cost, Mr. Poopybutthole would _make_ him help if necessary, though he hoped it wouldn't come to that. 

He punched in the last number and listened to the phone ring. It rang once........

twice........... 

thrice............

four times............

five-

He picked up. 

"Hello?"

"Noob Noob," Mr. Poopybutthole breathed. 

"Woah, Mr. Poopybutthole, is that you? God damn!! It has been too long!!!"

"Oo-wee, you could say that again. But that's beside the point. I need your help. And it's not gonna be easy."

There was a pause. Mr. Poopybutthole held his breath. Was he gonna say no?

"......What do you need me to do?"

**Author's Note:**

> Hope that didn't make your eyes bleed. Let me know what you think. See you next time!!!!  
> -CC


End file.
